She Who Leads the Way
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are on the run in Poland. With them, a priest a nun and six orphans children. Originally posted for the Picfic Tuesday Challenge on section7mfu, Live Journal. Pre-saga.


"Please Father, we need to get moving," Napoleon spoke firmly but respectfully.

"Yes yes. I must bring the chalice, crucifix and the candlesticks...for mass." The priest grabbed a bottle of sacramental wine and a box filled with small white hosts.

"Saving your life and those of the children are more important than some ritualistic paraphernalia," Illya growled."It is purely superstitious nonsense!"

"Tovarisch, I know you don't give a damn about religion but these are his...and my beliefs I might add, and they are not nonsense by any means. Show a little respect if you don't mind."

"Napoleon I once went to church, but then God...if He does exist, let me down more than you could ever know. A few accoutrements for a religious service hardly represent a deity, they are the trappings men use to comfort themselves. I say again, if there is a God, then He is everywhere and not limited to church buildings and chalices. Is not God supposed to be within one's self? As the one true Deity, He cannot be limited..."

Napoleon was taken aback by those statements, and they were really something he couldn't refute. For a man who said he didn't believe in God, Illya Kuryakin could come out with some pretty profound statements.

"Father, please I'll take care of these," Illya said, softening his stance and gathering the altar table cloth in the small chapel, he tied the treasures up in it.

"Go get the children now." The stare from the Russian gave a clear message to the priest to move and do it quickly.

He disappeared through a door, returning a few minutes later accompanied by a nun in a brown habit, scapular, black veil and a wooden crucifix suspended on a cord. She was of the Felician Sisters, with her order having been founded in the mid 1800's by Sophia Truszkowska in Warsaw. It was one branch of the Third Order of St. Francis and their main task was the care of orphans, even though it was a dangerous thing to be a member of the clergy at this time in Communist Poland.

Accompanying her and the priest were six children ranging in age from four to perhaps ten. They each had a pillow case stuffed with their clothing and what few personal items they owned in this world, though as orphans they possessed little.

Illya's demeanor suddenly changed when he saw them; Napoleon noting a sad look in his partner's eyes. He seemed to stare off into some hidden place, perhaps recalling his own childhood as an orphan back in the Soviet Union.

"Come children, "Father Stanislaus whispered. "Remember no talking, no noise at all. You must be quiet. We mustn't let the soldiers hear us. Do you understand?"

"Yes Father," they replied, some of them rubbing their eyes and yawning.

The adults each grabbed the youngest children, carrying them out into the night, with the two oldest Olga and Izak both about nine or ten, were sequestered in the middle of the group.

_"Gdzie idziemy_where are we going,_" the little girl, Lyuba, cuddling in Illya's arms asked in Polish.

"To a place where the bad men cannot hurt you," he whispered to her."Now you must be very quiet, can you do that...be quiet like a little mouse?"

The child nodded to him, staring up at him with huge blue eyes that rivaled his own in color.

_"Porządna dziewczyna_good girl._" Illya cradled her small blonde head in his hand and kissed it. Lyuba held a small replica of the Black Madonna in her hands and she kissed the image, offering it to Illya to do the same. He hesitated at first, but to comfort the child he complied with her wish.

"Best put that away so you do not lose it, enh?" He took the small icon, placing it in his breast pocket.

Napoleon watched, seeing how tender his partner was being..."Not bad for an Ice Prince," he thought.

Father Stanislaus and Sister Maryja whispered together."Wait!" The priest suddenly blurted out. "The Madonna..."

"Father enough," Illya growled. "The icon is too big to take with us."

"No, the Czarna Madonna must be protected, I have a special hiding place... help me put her there? She has been here at the Monastery since the 1600's and has protected Częstochowa since then. She must remain for the defense of the town, but needs to be kept safe as well. Please we cannot completely abandon her. Who knows what the soldiers might try to do to her."

Father Stanislaus stopped for a moment, bowing his head, speaking a prayer before the sacred icon. The Madonna and child's skin in the painting were dark and on her right cheek were two long slashes.

_"We fly to thy protection, O holy Mother of God._

_Despise not our petitions in our necessities,_

_but deliver us always from all dangers_

_O glorious and blessed Virgin. Amen."_

The priest concluded his plea by making the sign of the cross.

It was different from how the Russian had been taught as a child to cross himself, but Illya reminded himself this was the Catholic way. He watched as the priest, nun and Napoleon blessed themselves, shaking his head. They were wasting valuable time.

"What no smart-aleck comment?" Napoleon remarked.

"I am well aware of the historical importance of this particular Madonna icon, she is venerated in the Ukraine as well. Though I may not believe and practice religion, I am not ignorant of it. There are legends regarding the Black Madonna of Częstochowa. It is purported that the presence of the holy painting saved the church from being destroyed in a fire, but not before the flames darkened the flesh tone pigments of the Madonna and child, but I think it is the continuous candle smoke and the kissing of the painting and veneration that have been the cause of that."

"The legend concerning the two scars on the Madonna's right cheek is that the Hussites stormed the monastery in the 1400's, plundering the sanctuary. Among the items stolen was the painting and after the thieves put it in their wagon, they tried to escape but their horses refused to move. They threw the portrait down to the ground and one of the plunderers drew his sword and inflicted two deep strikes upon the image. When the robber tried to strike a third time, he collapsed in agony until he died. Despite past attempts to repair these scars, it was found impossible as the painting was painted with tempera infused with diluted wax."

"Another legend states that, as the robber struck the painting twice, the face of the Virgin Mary started to bleed and the terrified Hussites retreated, leaving the Madonna behind."

"Interesting how you know a fair amount of religious history tovarisch," Napoleon jabbed," that is for a non-religious person."

Illya suddenly looked miffed. "The Black Madonna is not unknown in Kyiv and there is a copy of it there, also painted in the Byzantine style like original. The purportedly Miraculous Icon of the Mother of God "Cardiotissa" is in the Annunciation Monastery in Bortnichi. That icon holds the same name, 'She who shows the Way,' in Russian..._Hodigitria_."

Illya turned his attention away from his partner and to Lyuba, still rocking her in his arms to keep her calm. He was whispering things to her in Polish, but Napoleon had no idea what was being said.

The dark-haired agent put down the little boy he was holding, and helped the priest take the four foot icon set a heavy frame, down from the chapel wall and together they slipped it into a narrow slot in the side wall; the priest sealed the opening with a piece of molding that matched the wood within the sanctuary.

"Now we are ready," Father Stanislaus announced.

The little group stepped out into the courtyard of the Monastery of Jasna Gora with the children wrapped in blankets to protect against the cold. The priest and nun had their own heavy coats, and had given the agents outerwear as well.

There were a few elderly monks who resided at Jasna Gora, but with the ban on the practice of religion they simply maintained the large compound as best they could. Practice of the Catholic faith was done is secret, with mass being periodically offered by Father Stanislaus, but not as often as the local population would have liked. It was risky, and better to stay safe at home where they could pray in private. Sometimes the priest would go to them and offer mass to small groups within the relative safety of their houses.

The small band of orphans were cared for by this brave group of clergy but with troops looking for the UNCLE agents, they'd no longer be safe. The monks refused to leave, saying there were too old to travel and their presence would help maintain a normal appearance a the monastery.

They were charged with putting a crude replica of the Black Madonna in place of the real one...

.

The only sound heard now was the muffled footsteps of the four adults and the two children as they moved cautiously across the cobbled exited a large arched wooden door and disappeared into the night, heading directly under cover among the dense trees that surrounded the sizeable Monastery compound.

The plan was to head to a small town called Turchau, just a little over 4 kilometers away. There the clergy and children would be hidden and the agents could be on their way to Austria and safety. They would have to travel on foot to the town, though the children would make it slow going.

"There is snow coming," Illya sniffed the air.

Napoleon didn't doubt him as his partner seemed to be able to tell when that sort of weather change was coming.

"Best we keep to the forest for cover, once it starts to snow our tracks will become evident.

"For once I hope you're wrong about the weather chum," Napoleon whispered.

Sadly Kuryakin was not mistaken about the snow, as it began to fall a half-hour later.

The children were tired, and tried to be quiet as they were told, but the chilly weather and the snow made them very uncomfortable.

"_Zimno mi_I'm cold,_" squeaked Lyuba as she pressed herself closer to Illya.

"I know sweetheart. I am cold too but we must remain strong." He opened his coat, wrapping it around the child, allowing her to snuggle closer to him.

"Are we almost there?" She whispered.

"Yes, almost," he lied.

The snow that had been gently falling now became a raging blizzard as the winds began to howl. They couldn't go any farther as visibility was near impossible, but they were in the middle of the forest with no shelter in sight. They had to act quickly...

Napoleon and Illya sacrificed their blankets and along with the rope belts the priest and the nun wore, they were able to put together a lean-to of sorts, with pine tree branches stacked around it to block the snow and wind.

They all scrambled beneath the shelter, keeping the children and Sister Maryja farther in, with the bodies of the three men offering them cover. The remaining blankets were spread on top of all of them, with their breath and body heat beneath adding to the warmth.

The wind howled, blowing the snow harder as they all shivered under their meager protection.

"Go to sleep children, in the morning the storm will be over and we will carry you to safety and warm food at Turchau," whispered Sister Maryja, " Say your prayers and ask the Madonna to protect us through the night."

The agents felt no sense of danger, other than from the storm. No one would be tracking them in this weather and with that thought, they both drifted to sleep.

Napoleon closed his eyes, and smiled as he dreamt he was on a tropical beach in the arms of a Heather McNabb. She was dressed in a skimpy red bikini and he was just untying the strap...

Illya's sleep was fitful as dreamed he was walking through the snow-filled forest. Every noise made him jump and he had visions of the Baba Yaga. The hag flew after him in a mortar, holding a pestle in her bony hand, and behind her followed the hut she lived in, walking on four great chicken legs.

Illya ran, but everywhere he turned the hut of Baba Yaga the boney-legged would be there in front of him. He finally stopped, entered her house and finally confronted the hag.

_"Fie, fie,"_ she said, _"the Russian smell was never heard of nor caught sight of here, but it has come by itself. Are you here of your own free will or by compulsion, my good man?" *_

"Mostly of my own free will, and twice as much by compulsion! Do you know, Baba Yaga, where lies the way to Turchau?"

The hag covered her face, pointing to his pocket. "_Away with you I say, take it away!"_ She sliced the air with a sickle, chasing him out the door.

Illya ran back through the forest, hearing the snow crunch beneath his feet, and stinging his face when he saw a glow in the distance, a red flickering light.

There appeared the figure of a dark robed woman beckoning him to follow her.

As he got closer to the light, he saw a little house, with candles in the window and a roaring fire in the hearth. He turned to speak to her but she'd vanished. Illya knocked on the door, though no one answered. The agent walked inside, sighing as he felt the warmth, and doing a 360˚ turn, he saw the small icon of the Black Madonna on the wall...

Illya woke up with a start, as there was a thunderclap, that sometimes happened though it was rare, and was called thundersnow. He turned, peering out into the storm and saw a light, the same light he'd seen in his dream. The shivering Russian crawled out of the lean-to and headed towards it, finding the house exactly as he'd seen it and hurried back to fetch the others.

"Quickly, I have found us better shelter." He woke his partner and the others who all saw the light just as Illya did. It took a few minutes to break down their makeshift lean-to, as they dare not leave the blankets behind.

They followed Kuryakin into the dark storm, though the priest and nun feared the Russian might be mad. Napoleon, though hesitant at first, trusted in his partner.

"Lead on Mc Duff..." Napoleon called, as the wind and snow stung his face. The children began to whimper as they were brought out into the storm. Itzak hung on Solo's back, while Olga clung to Illya; both men each carried one of the smaller children in their arms. The priest and nun did the same, following the men from UNCLE, struggling in their long robes to make it through the ever deepening snow.

They reached the welcoming little house, and entered it. No one was there, but the fire was burning brightly in the fireplace. There were more blankets set on a bed to one side, and bowls of hot potato soup and bread on the table. Nine bowls and spoons and cups, just the right number as if they'd been expected. There was a large jug of milk, and an old bottle of _Miód Kurpiowski Dwójnia_..._Polish mead_ as well.

.

They ate the hot meal without a word, and the children were tucked in the bed, snug and warm, while the adults slept on the floor, wrapped in their heavy blankets, though the heat from the fire filled the room. A few glasses of mead warming their bellies and lulled them quickly to sleep.

Illya looked around the room as he lay there, feeling quite satisfied at their good fortune. He suddenly noticed the icon of the Madonna that had been on the wall in his dream wasn't there.

He reached into his jacket pocket finding the one he was holding for the little Lyuba. Though he would not admit it, something deep within his heart whispered there had been a miraculous intervention tonight.

Illya's head countered, telling him it had all been a lucky coincidence...maybe.

When they woke in the morning, there was hot porridge and fruit on the table waiting for them, and as the others ate, Napoleon pulled his partner and the priest aside.

"Father do you know who owns this house?"

"No, my son. I have never laid eyes on it before. Is it not truly miraculous that Mr. Kuryakin found it? Who ever owns it must have put the food and blankets out for us."

Illya said nothing of his dream or his thoughts on the icon as he felt it still in his pocket.

The snow had stopped and the wind had somehow blown it into drifts that gave them a clear path out of the forest, and directly to Turchau. They were closer to the village than they had first thought.

There Father Stanislaus, Sister Maryja and the children were left in the care of a local innkeeper, a cousin to the priest. Napoleon and Illya laid hands on a post-war Syrena that had seen better days, but it ran and that was all they needed to get to the border. As luck would have it, the car was white, and would blend nicely against the snowy landscape.

They said their goodbyes, and little Lyuba ran to Illya giving him a hug. The blue-eyed agent knelt beside her, whispering in her ear and gave her a little peck on the cheek as handed her something.

_"Nie, ona chce być z Tobą. Powiedziała mi tak_no, she wants to be with you._ She told me so. It was she who lead you to the house and gave us the food and blankets." The child pushed the icon back towards him as Illya held it out to her.

Illya shook his head, trying to dissuade the child, but Lyuba would hear nothing of it, and he finally relented.

As the UNCLE agents drove off, Illya pulled the icon from his pocket, placing it on the dashboard.

"I thought you didn't believe in these religious trappings," Napoleon said. "Something happened last night and you're not going to tell me are you?"

_"Nyet."_

When Illya answered 'no' in English Solo at least had half a chance to convince his partner otherwise, but when he replied in Russian, that generally ended the discussion of the subject matter. Napoleon tried prying the information from his partner a few more times times before they secreted themselves across the border.

They abandoned the car, and Napoleon watched as Illya secreted the icon back in his pocket as they made their way to safety on foot...

When they safely arrived in Austria, Illya again reached for the icon, but to his dismay; he found it missing. It was true, he guessed, the _Czarna Madonna_, needed to remain in Poland, as her tenure as protector of two UNCLE agents was at an end...or was it she who had lead them?

Illya would never admit that thought to Napoleon...


End file.
